


Everything Goes Quiet (When It's You I'm With)

by piratekelly



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Bottom Steve McGarrett, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Episode: s05e19 Kahania (Close Shave), Established Relationship, Fingering, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nightmares, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Rimming, tactile steve, warnings for episode content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7995736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratekelly/pseuds/piratekelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve can't get a case out of his head, Danny steps in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Goes Quiet (When It's You I'm With)

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY.
> 
> Title comes from Jason Mraz's "Quiet."

\--

Steve has been staring at the walls of his office for a few hours by the time someone dares to walk in and tell him to go home. His eyes feel dry and gritty - from crying or staring, he’s not sure which. All he knows is that among the four of them there are seventeen family notifications to make and that’s reason enough to mentally check out for an extended period of time.

To put it bluntly, Steve has seen a lot of fucked up shit in his life. Nobody gets out of a combat situation completely unscathed - anyone who says otherwise is a liar - but no amount of training or sleep deprivation or compartmentalization could have prepared him for how he would feel after opening that door.

The memory of that one tiny pink shoe will haunt him for the rest of his life.

All those toys, the clothes, the pictures, god, the pictures, all those mementos for Eran, who’d seemed so innocent at the barbershop, just another scared kid running from a bad situation. Steve had done everything he could to get him and Odell to safety, risking his own life, and for what? Rationally, he knows he was just doing his job, that he was protecting and serving like he’d promised to do for the last five years, but he can’t help but hold himself responsible for all that Odell was put through today.

Steve did his job. He did what he was supposed to do, but for his own sake he never should have opened that shoebox. He should have called CSU and left all the evidence gathering to them, but somewhere deep down had been the need to reassure himself that killing a teenager hadn’t been the product of a shitty situation. He needed proof that the kid he put down at the docks had been every bit the monster his own father had said he was.

Hours later and Steve still isn’t sure if the evidence of Eran’s crimes makes him feel better or not.

“Boss?”

Steve directs his gaze to his office door. Kono is standing there, leaning against the glass with a soft expression on her face, and he immediately feels a need to defend himself. He doesn’t need her sympathy or her compassion. What he needs is to find some way to scrub this entire day from his mind. What he needs is for those kids to be alive, for their paths to never have crossed Eran’s, but Steve has long since become accustomed to not getting what he needs.

“Yeah, Kono.”

“Go home,” she replies softly. “We can handle it for now. We can’t do anything until the lab results come back anyway.”

Right. They’d had the lab process every inch of that room, every piece of evidence they could get their hands on and then some. So far Steve’s rounded number of victims is holding steady, but they can’t conclude the investigation on those polaroids alone. The DNA tests would be cross referenced with local and national missing persons databases to rule out the possibility of other victims. If Steve’s being honest with himself, the body count can only rise from here, but he hopes against hope that it doesn’t. One lost child is one too many. If Steve finds the number has increased by morning, he thinks this case will be the one that sends him screaming into the void for good.

Kono is still standing in his office, her mask of soft understanding now replaced by a look of genuine concern.

“Okay,” he says, pushing back from his desk. He’s mostly running on autopilot as he collects his phone and keys, shutting down his laptop and locking up his files before following Kono out the door.

It says a lot about Steve’s current state of mind when he gets all the way out to the parking lot before realizing that he grabbed the keys to his truck and not his newly acquired personal set to the Camaro.

“Looking for these?”

Danny’s smiling at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His posture lacks its usual ease, his spine straight, shoulders tight as he dangles the keys in front of him. Steve would be concerned, but if there’s anyone out there who can understand how fucked up Steve is over this case, it’s Danny.

“Your timing is, as always, impeccable.”

“I’ll be sure to add that to the Special Skills section of my resume.”

Steve snorts, reaching out to take his keys from Danny, but the other man pulls his hand out of reach before Steve can grab them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Danny asks.

“I’m going home, Danny.”

“Not by yourself you’re not,” he replies, gesturing for Steve to make his way over to the passenger side.

If this were any other day, under any other circumstances, Steve would be throwing down the gauntlet for the first round of a cargument, but the fight went out of him hours ago. He sighs, adjusts the bag hanging from his shoulder, and moves to the other side of the car. Truth be told, Steve’s relieved to know that he’s not going to be alone for the foreseeable future.

As Danny backs the car out of its spot and points it in the direction of Steve’s house, Steve leans against the cool glass of the window and falls asleep before they can make it out of the lot.

\--

It feels like only seconds have passed when Danny gently nudges him awake. Steve groans, rubbing the fuzzy feeling from his eyes with one hand while undoing his seatbelt with the other. He opts to leave his bag in the back seat - it doesn’t hold anything important, just a spare change of clothes and some protein bars he likes to keep on hand for long days - and slowly makes his way up the sidewalk to the front door. Danny is waiting for him there, arming the security system while Steve continues the journey upstairs to the bedroom.

He’s exhausted, emotionally spent, each step feeling heavier than the last; he leaves a trail of clothes in his wake as he moves toward the bed. Danny walks into the bathroom, undoing his tie as he flicks on the light, and Steve is relieved that Danny doesn’t seem interested in talking right now. There’s too much going on in his head, too many things he wants to say - many of which he knows he’d blurt out without even thinking - so he finishes stripping down to his boxers and curls up under the cool sheets. The last thing he remembers is Danny turning off the bathroom light.

\--

There are gunshots, cries of pain echoing inside these walls, and he can feel his heart beating frantically against his chest. He hears children screaming and all he can see in the dim light of a dusty basement is the face of the young boy who fooled him, who revealed himself to be evil in its purest form.

Steve is aching to help, turning away from Eran and bolting into a dead sprint in the direction of the distressed cries, but no matter how hard he pushes his body, no matter how fast he runs, a voice in his head tells him he’ll never make it in time.

A broken down door with rusty locks comes into view and he approaches slowly. He has no backup coming, so he has to do this by the book. A bead of sweat trails down the back of his neck as he kicks the door in. He’s expecting to see Eran, reveling in finally being discovered, having the chance to show off everything he’s done with pride, but all he sees is a little green and white striped tank top hanging from a pipe and a body on the floor. Even in the dark room he can tell it’s a male, much too large to be a child, and Steve approaches with caution, operating under the assumption that this man could be another suspect.

“I told you you couldn’t do it.”

Steve turns, gun raised. Eran stands before him, ghostly pale, shirt stained with his own blood, exactly like he’d been at the dock.

“Couldn’t do what?” he asks.

Eran smirks. “Save them.”

He takes a step back when Eran advances on him, but missteps, tripping over the prone form on the floor and firing into the ceiling. By the time he gets his bearings, Eran is gone and Steve can see the face of the body next to him.

It’s Danny, blue eyes wide open, staring unseeing right at Steve.

“No, no, no,” Steve mutters, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair back from Danny’s forehead. His skin is cold, lacking the subtle tan he’d acquired in his time on the islands, and nothing about this is right. “Oh, God, Danny. No, no, no…”

Steve is shaking uncontrollably now, a choked sob fighting its way past his lips as he moves to stand. He’s failed - failed those kids, failed the people of Hawaii for not protecting them, failed Danny - and the thought has him searching for something he can throw, punch, kick, anything that will get him through this first wave of crushing self-doubt and grief. There’s nothing, though, nothing but dust and heavy, humid air as he tries to breathe through the hot flash of anger burning deep in his gut.

A hand clamps down on his shoulder, and he can hear someone calling his name, but all he can see are stuffed animals and tiny shoes and soft skin streaked with dirt and he can’t breathe. There’s so much dust and it’s hot, so hot, and the room feels like it’s closing in around him and it’s all so wrong, how did this happen, what --

“Steve, wake up.” The hand on his shoulder tightens its grip. “Steve, you have to wake up now.”

He shoots up into a sitting position, hands blindly reaching out for whatever it is that brought him back to reality, only to find himself only inches away from Danny’s face.  Before Steve even has the chance to think about it, his hands are clamping down on Danny’s shoulders, pulling him in so that Steve can rest his head in the crook of Danny’s neck where he can feel Danny’s pulse thrumming under warm skin.

Steve tries to match his breathing to the steady thump of blood rushing through his veins, taking comfort in Danny’s touch, in the quiet shushing noises Danny is whispering into his ear. He finds relief in the knowledge that Danny is here and well and very much alive. It takes long minutes for Steve’s breathing to even out into deep, steady inhales, the scent of Danny’s laundry detergent going a long way in helping Steve to anchor himself to the present.

A small part of Steve can’t help but think that this should be awkward - for all the nights Danny’s slept in this bed he’s never witnessed Steve in the throes of such a visceral nightmare - but all he feels is safe. He knows that if he’d been alone tonight he’d be having a panic attack on the floor right about now. Instead, he once again finds himself overwhelmed by how grateful he is that Danny is here, wrapped around him, calming Steve with low murmurs of it’s okay and you’re fine, just breathe with me, there you go.

When they finally separate Danny rests a hand on Steve’s forearm, thumb absently caressing the sweat-sticky skin underneath. “You okay?”

“Not really,” Steve mumbles, brushing a shaky hand over his hair.  “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’ve had worse?”

“Not really.”

Steve lets out a short laugh, though it lacks any real humor.  “Didn’t think so.”

The seconds tick by and they both sit in silence, only listening to the sound of each other’s breathing, before Danny asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“How many times have I answered that in the affirmative?” Steve smirks.

Danny shakes his head fondly. “It’s worth a try, right?”

And that’s the thing. Danny has been trying, has actually been trying a lot since they decided to do this thing for real. Danny’s not the best at it sometimes, but he’s miles better at this whole communication thing than Steve is. Steve has a steep learning curve, figuring out how to meet Danny in the middle in situations like this. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not really, but he knows he might actually get some decent sleep if he does.

“You died, Danny,” Steve croaks. Danny shifts his hold on him so they’re face to face. “There was a body...in that basement. I thought maybe it was, I don’t know, a partner of Eran’s or something, but, uh. It... it was –”

Steve doesn’t have any time to register the movement before Danny’s kneeling in front of Steve, pulling him down so that their foreheads are pressed together. “Steve--”

“All I could think about was that I’d never be able to do this again,” he whispers, hand snaking out to pull Danny up by the back of his neck and into a kiss.

It starts slow, like most of their kisses do; familiarity with the act has never meant they can’t kiss the way they both like: gentle presses of lips, the occasional nip of teeth, slow and thorough explorations until they’re both gasping for air. Danny cards his fingers through the hair at the base of Steve’s skull, earning him a deep, satisfied groan. He relaxes into the contact, resting his hand over the one Danny is cupping his cheek with, nails biting into skin as the kiss gradually becomes more heated.

Danny stands and they make quick work of his t-shirt and sleep pants - why Danny insists on wearing so much to bed Steve will never know, but it’s one more fact of Danny of which he’s grown stupidly fond - dropping them into a messy heap on the floor beside the bed. There’s a sense of urgency growing between them, quick like a match to gasoline, but if the way Danny is slowing his kisses is any indication, this is going to move into slow burn territory very quickly.

Steve enjoys fast and rough sex as much as anyone else, but sex has always been about more than just getting off for him. Tonight, in this moment, it isn’t about what he wants, but rather what he needs. This is about reassurance, about the need to feel Danny’s heart beating under his palm, being able to taste the sweat on his skin, a physical and emotional confirmation that Danny is still whole, still breathing, still here, despite all of Steve’s faults and shortcomings. This is about connecting and sharing, a joint effort to cleanse this room, this bed, of bad dreams and replace them with soft touches and whispered words of comfort and love.

Steve is pulled back to the present when Danny guides him onto his back, settling him against the mattress before climbing over him. He leans down until his mouth is hovering just over Steve’s, brushing their lips together, a tease of what’s to come. Steve would complain - it’s common knowledge that he’s an impatient man - but the action is so quintessentially Danny that Steve just smiles in response. Steve opens his eyes and looks up at his partner, bathed in the moonlight shining through the window above the bed, casting shadows over Danny’s skin, capturing the shift and flex of muscle in a way that makes him seem almost ethereal.

It’s intense, having Danny look at him with so much want, hooded eyes gazing slowly up and down Steve’s body. If it were anyone else Steve would be uncomfortable being the sole focus of such intensity, but there’s a hunger in Danny’s eyes, tinged with a desperate need to know that Steve is present in this moment, that makes Steve’s heart beat double time in his chest.

“Are you just gonna stare all night?”

“Maybe,” Danny grins wolfishly, leaning down so that his mouth is brushing over the sensitive skin where Steve’s neck meets his shoulder. He exhales, breath fanning out across Steve’s skin, goosebumps breaking out across his body sending shivers down his spine. “Is that what you want, Steven?”

Steve tilts his head back to give Danny better access; the things Danny can do with his tongue should be illegal.

“Not really,” he replies.

“Well then,” Danny says, biting down on the lobe of Steve’s ear just this side of too hard, just the way Steve likes. “How do you want it?”

“Uh, I--” Steve exhales shakily. When did thinking get so hard? “The thing, Danny. The thing we never have time for.”

Danny pauses, pulling back just enough so that he’s looking Steve in the eye. “You sure, babe?”

“I’d really,” Steve hums, leaning up to press a kiss to Danny’s neck. “Really like it if you’d fuck me.”

Most people would be surprised to learn that Steve McGarrett, Mr. Badass Navy SEAL, really, definitely, one hundred percent loves bottoming. The problem is that they never have time to do it properly. See, Steve is one of those men who have been blessed with a little extra sensitivity in certain areas, which means for Steve, he can come more than once in a single sexual encounter. All of which is to say that he never gets to bottom because they’re always on the job and Steve always needs a solid ten hours of sleep and a truly staggering amount of carbs to recover.

If the look on his partner’s face is any indication, they’re going to be shamelessly late to work tomorrow. Steve can’t be bothered to care.

“Yeah,” Danny groans, leaning back as he grinds down over Steve’s hips. “I think we can definitely do that.”

They spend long moments simply kissing and touching, Steve reveling in the solid weight of Danny’s body pinning him to the mattress. He feels centered, more grounded the more he gets lost in Danny’s touch, letting his mind fog over until there’s nothing left but Danny, Danny, Danny.

Danny slowly kisses his way down Steve’s arm, pressing one last kiss to the inside of his elbow as teeth gently nip their way down his arm. He kisses the palm of Steve’s hand before sucking his middle finger into the wet, warm heat of his mouth. Steve groans, tilting his head back into his pillow as he’s flooded with memories of what that mouth feels like in so many other places.

At some point, Danny manages to remove Steve’s boxers without him really noticing - he only knows for sure when he opens his eyes to see them hanging from the ceiling fan above Danny’s head. When he points that out, Danny just grins, eyes twinkling with mirth as he moves to kiss his way down Steve’s chest, right past where Steve wants him in favor of sinking his teeth into the skin of Steve’s inner thigh. Steve barely manages to suppress the urge to kick out in response and instead tightens his grip on the sheets and groans.

He looks down to see Danny kissing the slightly raised spot on his skin, watches him smile and wrap a hand tightly around Steve’s opposite hip before biting down on the same spot again. Danny’s eyes never leave his as he bites down just enough to ride the line between pleasure and pain and Steve can’t hold back a gasp, back arching off the bed as electricity shoots up his spine. He knows there will be a mark there tomorrow, deep and purple and tender, knows he’ll be able to casually brush a finger over it while they’re in the office and remember exactly how it got there.

Danny presses one last kiss to the now angry, red mark before tapping Steve on the hip, a signal to roll over onto his stomach. Steve’s breath hitches slightly in anticipation but does as requested, moving without hesitation. He trusts that Danny knows exactly what he needs to get him there, to those few heart-racing moments of euphoria before starting in on him all over again.

Steve settles himself so that he’s comfortably resting with his head on a pillow, his arms crossed underneath for added support as Danny first kisses the back of his neck before making his way down, down, down Steve’s back, gently nipping at the dimples on his lower back before continuing on.

The first touch of Danny’s tongue knocks the breath from his lungs. It’s been so long since they’ve had time to do this, had time for Danny to take him apart slowly, piece by piece until he’s nothing but a sweaty, quivering mess in the middle of their bed, and it’s so good. He wants to tell Danny as much, wants to tell him harder, wetter, slower, anything, but words escape him. Danny is the only person on this planet who can take him so thoroughly out of his own head that the power of speech eludes him. Danny spreads Steve’s ass wider, gripping him to the point where Steve is almost positive there will be bruises there in the morning, and sets to work.

Steve is lost in a sea of sensation, moaning and gasping with every touch, every brush of Danny’s stubble against the sensitive skin of his ass. Danny alternates from gentle licks to enthusiastic tongue-fucking in equal measure, the wet smacking sound of skin on skin that has Steve begging him to never stop ever, jesus that’s so good.  It’s sloppy and filthy, Danny alternating between long licks up to his balls and fucking Steve open with his tongue, and Danny has Steve so distracted that he almost didn’t notice he reached under him, wrapping a warm hand around Steve’s cock.

Steve hadn’t realized how hard he was before the warm, dry skin of Danny’s palm circles him and pumps, but he’s hard enough that it’s starting to hurt. There’s so much friction, almost too much, but it feels too fucking good to ask him to slow down, to stop, to at least find the lube, because now all Steve wants is to come and to come now. He can feel it rising, the fiery heat in his belly reaching further out into his body, from the tips of his fingers all the way down to his toes.

His orgasm rushes through him like a freight train after only a few strokes. It feels like he’s burning up from the inside out, blood racing through his veins like fire, lighting up his every nerve. Danny backs away quickly, leaving Steve to work through the aftershocks in the middle of their bed, lost in a haze, completely unconcerned with the state of the sheets underneath him. A small part of Steve wants to end it here, to ride this pleasant wave into a contented, ideally dreamless sleep, but he’s not there yet, and he desperately wants to know what else Danny has in store for him.

Steve shifts onto his side, looking over his shoulder and locking eyes with Danny as he reaches under the pillow to grab the lube from where they’d left it last time. Steve is all too aware of the picture he’s painting for Danny, all spread out across the bed, one leg nearly pulled up to his chest, a thin sheen of sweat trailing down his spine. Danny growls, snatches the bottle from Steve with one hand while pushing him back onto his stomach with the other. Steve chuckles at Danny’s impatience, resting his head on his arms as he waits for Danny to get himself situated.

The first touch of Danny’s finger makes him jolt, and were it any other night they’d both be laughing about it, but Steve is burning up with need and the lube is cold.  Danny circles his finger around Steve’s hole while gently sliding his other hand up Steve’s spine. Steve’s hum of approval quickly turns into a groan when Danny slides his finger in at the exact moment he pushes Steve’s chest further down into the mattress, constricting his breathing just enough that he can feel it.

Danny presses kisses to his ass, his spine, his thighs, all while prepping him so maddeningly slowly that Steve starts to go a little crazy with want. Danny turns him onto his back and licks a line up the shaft of Steve’s cock, swallowing him down while gently tapping at Steve’s prostate. Steve’s never been so happy that his refractory period after one orgasm is so short, because the slight overstimulation feels incredible and he can’t stop moaning, a litany of fuck and your mouth, jesus and you’re so hot like this you don’t even know that seems to be spurring Danny on.

Steve’s second orgasm catches him by surprise, shouting as he comes down Danny’s throat. Danny groans and pulls back slowly, pressing one last kiss to the head, letting it fall half-hard to Steve’s thigh as he moves to kiss along the vee of Steve’s hips.

Most nights he’d be content to let Danny stay down there as long as he likes, but Steve asked to be fucked and Danny is going to give it to him. “Danny, I.. fuck, just get up here already.”

Steve once again finds himself on his stomach, face pressed into the mattress now that his pillow seems to have disappeared.

He can feel Danny spread his cheeks with one hand, knows that he’s lining himself up with the other, and does his best to relax his body in anticipation. Danny pushes in slowly, his hands on Steve’s hips, pressing Steve further down into the mattress as Steve groans. Steve reaches back with one hand, pulling Danny in faster, just the way he likes it, until he bottoms out completely. They both stay like that for a moment, Danny on his knees behind Steve, panting with the need to move but holding back because he knows how much Steve loves to revel in the stretch, that slight tinge of pain that comes with opening himself up to Danny in this way. These little things, the small but important facts that Danny always remembers, are what makes sex with him not only great, but easy.

He’s never been able to connect like this with someone before, at least not in bed. He’s had plenty of fun encounters, and sex with romantic partners never felt like a chore, but with Danny it’s something else entirely. Steve can disconnect from the world when he’s in bed with Danny, can unplug from everything and allow himself to be in the moment, to know without a shadow of a doubt that he’s safe and cared for under these hands. It’s a level of euphoria that Steve craves in all aspects of life, but one he’s content to find in these sporadic moments.

Danny pulls back slowly, cock brushing Steve’s prostate, and Steve feels every inch as it leaves his body. He’s barely recovered from his second orgasm, body shuddering with the occasional aftershock, but he nods at Danny, urging him to move forward.

Steve’s normally never this responsive, but when Danny thrusts back inside, he very nearly yells with how good it feels. Nearly every thrust forces a pant, a moan, a loud cry of pleasure from his throat; he wants to tell Danny how good it feels, to go faster, please, god, faster, but his mind is clouded over, no room left to think about anything other than this, than the feeling of Danny inside him, of Danny pulling him up onto his hands and knees and just fucking going for it. All Steve can do at this point is grab the headboard for leverage and hold on tight.

Danny leans forward, chest pressed to Steve’s back as he presses kisses to the nape of Steve’s neck. He cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, his other hand reaching down to thread their fingers together, repositioning them so that they’re around Steve’s cock. Steve feels like he actually stops breathing for a moment, shocked that he seems to be getting hard again so quickly. The pace is unrelenting, the slapping sound of skin on skin adding to the chorus of pants and groans filling the room. It’s so filthy, so primal, so unbelievably hot that Steve can hardly believe it’s real.

He feels Danny slowly pepper kisses across his neck, his shoulders, the top of his spine, a gesture that seems so entirely out of place given the frantic nature of what they’re doing, but feels right nonetheless. This is who they are: rough, but gentle, harsh and soothing all at once, and it’s perfect, these little reminders that in any and all circumstances, who they are with each other remains a constant. He’s overwhelmed with how much he loves Danny, his body and his heart in equal parts, so thankful that Steve will have this moment to look back on when he’s feeling unsteady.

The kisses stop, and he can feel Danny’s labored breathing against the damp skin behind his ear. He whispers how good Steve is, how hot he looks all spread out for Danny to do as he pleases, how good he takes it, every word sending a shiver down Steve’s spine as Danny takes control, stroking his cock fast and hard.

“You were made to be fucked, babe,” Danny growls, leaning down further to bite at Steve’s ear lobe.

Steve’s punched out moans give way to a long, guttural groan as he comes for the third time, making a mess of the sheets beneath him as his body locks up underneath and around Danny, digging his nails into the headboard as he rides it out.

Danny stills, and Steve is content for him to stay right where he is until he can get his breathing under control. As fit as Steve is, he still needs time to bounce back from so much exertion.

“That’s three,” Danny murmurs, curling over Steve so that they’re pressed together skin to skin.  “Think you can do one more for me, babe?”

“Maybe?  Jesus, Danny, just... go slow.  Let me come down from this one,” Steve pants.

“Alright,” he whispers, pressing one last kiss to the hinge of Steve’s jaw before pulling out. Steve whines at the loss, and Danny smirks. “On your side, Commander.”

Steve does as told, stretching his tired muscles as he moves onto his left side. “Fuckin’ bossy.”

“You love it,” Danny replies, a smug smile on his face.

Danny reaches out, wrapping an arm around Steve’s torso, and Steve relaxes into the touch, slowing his breathing to match the gentle caress of Danny’s hand across his chest.

“You’re so sexy like this,” Steve hears him murmur, reaching up to tilt Steve’s head back for a kiss. “All fucked out and covered in your own mess. Makes me wanna lick you clean and start all over again.”

“Christ,” Steve whispers, dropping his head back onto the mattress. It’s possible that Danny hadn’t meant to say that out loud - Danny may not shut up most of the time, but he tends to let his body speak for him during sex - but Steve’s too far gone to care.

While Steve settles back into his skin, waiting for the last of the aftershocks to work their way out of his body, Danny shifts their position, resting Steve’s knee in the crook of his elbow as he pushes them forward, reaching down to align himself with Steve’s hole. He does as Steve previously asked and starts with slow, long, languid rolls of his hips mixed with the occasional sharp thrust as Steve works through the overstimulation. When it seems like Steve can handle it again, Danny gets his hands under Steve’s knee and until it’s nearly touching Steve’s chest, just the way he likes it.

He pushes in faster this time, not giving Steve any time to adjust before he relentlessly starts fucking into him, fast and hard.  Steve’s eyes slam shut as he reaches one hand above his head to grip the slats of the headboard, the other reaching behind him to grab Danny’s ass as he stops trying to keep in what have to be the most obscene noises he’s ever heard himself make.  Danny had once told him that he’d been sure that Steve couldn’t get any hotter than he was on any given day, but after they finally got together he quickly discovered that there is no version of Steve that he finds more sexy than when he is enjoying getting completely and thoroughly fucked.

“Come on, babe, you can do it,” Danny growls. “You’re so fucking hot like this, Steve. I wish you could see yourself.”

Steve just groans in response, like the idea of coming again is completely unfathomable, especially after three really intense orgasms, but he reaches down and starts stroking his cock back to full hardness anyway.

Danny pulls Steve in and presses kisses to the back of his neck, biting down on the spot behind Steve’s ear and worrying the skin until it’s a bright, unmistakable shade of red as he picks up the pace of his hips.  The mattress squeaks beneath them as Steve’s moans turn into whines, words pouring out of his mouth like gibberish as Danny pounds into him.

“Yeah, yes, Danny, holy fuck just–”

“What?  Just what, Steve?”  When Steve doesn’t respond, Danny slows his pace, and Steve whines in protest.  “Tell me, Steve, or I’ll stop.”

“No, don’t stop,” he gasps, craning his neck to look back. “Danny, shit, I will fucking murder you if you stop.”

“Well,” he laughs, thrusting sharply once just to hear Steve groan. He’s petty like that sometimes. “We can’t have that, can we?”

Danny has one hand wrapped around Steve’s cock, and the other is holding Steve’s chin, forcing Steve to maintain eye contact. He can barely keep his eyes open, much less focused, and having to keep his head turned at such an awkward angle this long is uncomfortable, but he wants to be able to look into Danny’s eyes when he comes, wants to convey all the things he’s never been able to say out loud. He wants to watch Danny watching him, wants to do this together, wants to watch the crow’s feet at the corners of Danny’s eyes appear when his face is contorted in pleasure, see his blue eyes flash with a possessiveness that would scare Steve coming from someone else. He wants to know, wants to see that this is affecting Danny just as deeply as it’s affecting him. He wants to be the reason Danny loses control.

“You’re so fucking good, Steve, so good for me,” Danny whispers, hot breath fanning over the sweat-soaked skin of his neck.

He tries to hold on, to savor this moment, desperately wishing it would never end because they never know when they’ll get to do it again. It takes so much time and energy to feel this good, to feel this loose in his skin, takes so much out of Steve to be able to let go like this. He wants to stay here like this, Danny sweaty and panting, draped across his back, doing everything he can to make Steve feel something good, to try to be something good for Steve. He wants to bottle this feeling and be able to drink it in when he’s reached his limits. He wants and he wants and he wants, but his body has never once listened to him, so it should come as no surprise that it doesn’t start now.

Steve’s entire body convulses as his fourth and final orgasm rolls through him, and for a moment it feels like he actually stops breathing. It leaves him silent and shaking, a panting mess along Danny’s chest as his partner shifts his hips one, two, three times as he feels the last of his orgasm leaving his body. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that Danny’s finally come, but he couldn’t tell when with any certainty. He’s not fully aware of anything outside of how he feels in this moment, content in the afterglow as the last of the aftershocks roll through him. His hands are everywhere: Danny’s arms, his ass, his thighs, curled up in the sheets below them, anywhere they can reach while Danny gives him time to come back to himself. 

They stay like that, Steve doesn’t know for how long, before Danny pulls out and rolls onto his back. He’s loose-limbed and ten kinds of exhausted, but he’s never felt better in his life. He feels settled. The buzzing under his skin has changed into a quiet hum of content and he feels like he could sleep for days.

“You alive?”

Steve chuckles as he turns to look Danny in the eye. “Don’t ask me stupid questions after you’ve fucked me.” 

“Noted,” he replies, reaching down to pull the sheet up over them before pulling Steve into an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers.

Danny reaches up, carding his fingers soothingly through Steve’s hair. Steve leans into the touch, having learned long ago that Danny’s comfort is not something to be denied. “Nightmares happen, babe. Don’t be sorry. Just be here.”

“I think I can do that,” Steve murmurs.

As Danny’s breathing evens out in sleep, Steve can’t help but think that maybe this is a turning point in their relationship. Maybe Steve will learn to be more comfortable, more transparent with his feelings without Danny having to force it out of him. Even more, maybe he can start to make peace with some of the crap he has in his head, the things he can’t talk about, the things he refuses to remember, maybe even the things he desperately wants to forget. Maybe Steve will sleep through the night, sooner rather than later, and wake feeling genuinely rested.

Steve settles back into his pillow, relaxing into the sheets and thinks that maybe, just maybe, Steve will let Danny help with that.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to momentsofweakness for being an amazing beta and leaving me hilarious comments in my Word docs. This was a completely self-indulgent work and I refuse to apologize for it. Come hang with me on tumblr (piratefalls) and we can talk about this on a... deeper level.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love. <3


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